


Dragons

by GusGustaffson



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Road Trips, This has been sitting in my drafts for almost 3 years now lol, and kitty kats, anyways enjoy, young lorne malvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GusGustaffson/pseuds/GusGustaffson
Summary: Mike Milligan is done with being just another suit in a big company. He grabs his former henchman Gale Kitchen to head east for a fresh start. They get in a car accident on the way and strand in no mans land. There be dragons here...
Kudos: 2





	Dragons

Dragons

The bright neon letters on the radio alarm clock switched from 05:59 to 06:00. A soft clicking sound. The display lightened up. An old timey song started playing. The person lying in bed shifted. He had been awake for some time now. Lifting the sheets, he turned on his back and stared up at the grey ceiling. Half-heartedly listening to the song playing. 

I know when night has gone, that a new world's born at dawn  
I'll keep rolling along, deep in my heart is a song  
Here on the range I belong, drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds

He closed his eyes again, counting down from ten. The bed was creaking under his weight as he slowly got up. He walked to the bathroom to relief himself. The radio still echoing in the background. He finished and walked down the stairs, grabbing his morning coat on the way. It was chilly, the hardwood floor cold underneath his naked feet. Stifling a yawn, he made a right turn into the kitchen. He glanced at the calendar. January third, 1981. A Monday.  
There was no joy as he put in two pieces of whole wheat toast inside the toaster. The way he moved it was clear to see that this was just mundane routine. The rut of everyday life.  
While he waited for his toast, he prepared the coffee. The strong scent of coffee beans mixed with the more mellow aroma of warm bread. The toaster ejected the slices of bread, making its familiar noise. He grabbed them straight out of the toaster, not even bothering for a plate and not minding that he burned his fingers in the process.  
He quietly sat there, chewing on the edge of a dry piece of toast, while studying the wall tiles. They used to be as white as fresh snow. But on the edges, they had turned grey. Just like everything else in this godforsaken place. A mere shadow of its former self. A mere shadow of his former self.  
He washed the rest of his breakfast down with coffee and started to get ready for today’s day of work. As he slipped into a fresh pair of briefs, he caught a glimpse of a familiar bright blue fabric, peeking out of behind different grey and black suits. Memories of violence, brutality and gruesome beauty were attached to the garment. Memories of whom he used to be.  
He got up and touched the fabric. It was old but it still felt as smooths as it did when he got the suit tailored. He chuckled lightly as he thought of all the times, he handwashed the blood out of it. And he was good at it too. There were never any traces left. Never.  
A smile crept at the edge of his lips and he had to stop himself. To not get lost in the fantasy of what used to be. Instead, he took out a random corporate suit and got dressed. 

The snow lying on the street was a couple of days old, dirty from absorbing the fumes of cars driving by. Thick clouds hung in the sky, not letting a single ray of sunshine through.  
His office building stood high and mighty, blocking the horizon with its thick body of concrete. He walked inside, going through all the security measures before stepping inside the already crowded elevator. No music was playing. Just the occasional clearing of the throat or a sigh.  
The door opened and he stepped outside to his floor. Making his way to his office. It was busy, as it usually was around this time, secretaries with documents fresh out of the passing by him.  
He closed the door to his office behind him, leaning against the dark wood, cancelling out all the noise from outside. Taking in a deep breath he took of his Coat and looked around, his eyes halted on the so-called future of mankind, the typewriter. What a wretched thing, sitting there, mocking him and his ways that supposedly were stuck in the past. Like some of his co-workers liked to say. 

You know how people say that the days pass by while you're working? This was not the case here. The minutes dragged on excruciatingly slow. It felt as if this place had a different grasp on time as the rest of the world. As if it was designed to drive him madder day by day.  
It was nine am when he couldn’t take it no more. He got up from his desk and decided to take a water break, maybe smoke a cigarette… or three. 

Cigarette between his lips he bent down and served himself to some sparkling water out of the watercooler. He casually leaned against it, took the cigarette and blew out the smoke. He watched it rise to the ceiling, while he listened to the never-ending clack-clack-clack of the typewriters in the many cubicles on the floor.  
“Hey there, Mike, how ya doing?”  
He lazily withdrew his gaze from the cigarette smoke to look into the chubby face of a colleague. He faked a small smile. “Doing fine, Kevin, how is the wife?”  
He didn’t listen to his co-worker’s rant about how his wife was being a huge bitch again. His mind traced off the minute the conversation started. All he did was watch Kevin’s mouth move. Kevin spat every now and then when he talked. Like a fat little pig. Bless the woman who had to lay next to that every night for the rest of her life. She obviously wasn't smart enough to divorce that son of a bitch.  
Mike's mind wandered further. To how he would deal with this kind of human being back in the day. How he would relieve the world of this oxygen waste. A proper, well aimed punch to the nose was all he would have needed. Drive up the bone right into that empty brain.  
The blood splatter would be minimal. If he stepped to the side at the right time, he wouldn't even get any on his suit. He smiled.  
“Mike? Are you listening?”  
He fixed his gaze again. Looking Kevin up and down. Smile fading, making way for an expression of pure serenity.  
“No Kevin. No, I am not. How 'bout you start treating your wife with some respect. She's the one that has to suck your sweaty dick. If I was you, I'd be kissing the ground that woman walks on.”  
Kevin stared dumbly at him. Mouth hanging open like a fish that had been pulled out of a river.  
"Uh. Come again there?"  
Mike huffed out a laugh and flipped the man off. Then he turned and walked away, throwing the water cup to the ground. He heard Kevin call his name. Not many, but some people stuck their heads out of their cubicles to see what was going on.  
Mike didn't care.  
No more. 

An hour later he was standing in front of his boss's office, a piece of paper clasped in his hand. He didn't knock, he barged right in.  
Slightly startled by the unannounced entrance his boss flinched. Mike didn't bother to say hello. He put the piece of paper on the desk.  
Gingerly, the boss reached for the paper and skimmed over it. He put it back down and looked up at Mike with raised eyebrows.  
"You quit?"  
Mike loosened his tie, slipped it over his head and threw it on the desk. "Here and now."  
The boss leaned back in his chair.  
"You're making a mistake, Milligan."  
"Oh, I don't think so… But I do have one last request."  
Sighing his boss crossed his arms.  
"At what would that be?"  
A beat.  
"Where is Gale Kitchen living these days?"  
…  
……  
…  
How he could let go of this freedom in the first place? The further he got away from that wretched building the more he wondered.  
Mike was driving on the open highway, windows down, night air breezing in. He was comfortably slumped in the driver's seat, music blasting from the radio. One hand on the steering wheel, the other fumbling for his pack of cigarettes. He fished a single one out with expertise and put it between his lips. The lighter was in his blue suit's pocket. He pulled it out and lit the cigarette and inhaled as if his life depended on it.  
The sun setting on the horizon painted the world in soft pinks and oranges. 

The sun was rising as he left the highway and pulled into road leading to a rural town, the houses faintly visible in the distance. Covered in snow. 

He found the small house with relative ease, the people around here were friendly folk and eager to help a lost stranger out.  
The house was small and kind of run-down. Almost too small. He remembered Gales wife. A stout and sturdy woman with a sweet smile and a demanding personality. He doubted that this was enough for her. 

Snow crunched underneath his shoes as he walked up the stairs. The doorbell rang. Heavy footsteps approached. The door creaked open.  
Gale looked tired. Dishevelled. His beard had grown longer and Mike saw the pre-curser of a beer belly. Seems like he wasn't the only one who had not dealt well with the promotion.  
Gale didn't say a word, he just stared at Mike. Mike smiled.  
"Long time no see. May I…?", he gestured inside.  
Snapping out of his daze, Gale nodded and stepped aside. Mike said his thanks and entered. 

Now this was a bachelor's place for sure. Dirty laundry was scattered all over it and there was no decoration. No pictures. Just sad, blank walls. Somehow the faint smell of cat hung in the air.  
Gale led him to the kitchen, where dirty dishes were stacked in the sink.  
Mike pulled up a chair and sat down at the wooden table. Something rubbed at his leg. He glanced down. Well, that sure explained the cat smell. It was a tricolored cat, meowing up at him. Mike slid the chair a bit back and the cat took the opportunity to hop on his lap. He scratched it behind its ears, a rusty purr emitting from the creature.  
Gale was silently preparing instant coffee, bringing a pot of water to a boil. Mike looked around. Whatever happened in the past year it must have broken the marriage. But then again. It could've been boiling for longer than that. Back in the day the Kitchen brothers barely left Mikes side. And then Wayne died. That sure must've put a strain on the relationship. Mike couldn't say he blamed Gale for it. And he had enough courtesy not to ask. Gale Kitchen, just like his brother, was never a man of many words. 

Gale set down the steaming coffee in front of Mike and sat down himself, sipping on his coffee. Judging by the comfortable silence, he was appreciative that Mike didn't ask any questions about the state he was in.  
Mike nodded at the man and took a sip himself. He hummed. For instant coffee, it was more than decent. The cat in his lap meowed. He went back to petting it.  
"I quit Kansas."  
Gale looked up from his mug, eyebrows raised.  
"I asked for your release as well… I hope that is fine with you."  
Gale leaned back and glanced out the window. A songbird sat on the windowsill.  
"They didn't give me many jobs after Sioux falls... The business is changing."  
"Yeah it is… I guess we are old fashioned."  
Gale smiled at that remark.  
They let silence settle in. Only the cat kept on purring.  
"Have you ever been to Montana, Gale?"  
Gale stopped in the midst of taking a sip and shook his head.  
"How about we start fresh…? Go back to what we do best. Our way."  
Gale let that thought sink in. Then he pointed to the cat. "Gotta take Wayne."  
Mike was a little surprised that the cat was named after the deceased Kitchen brother. But who was he to judge? He smiled.  
"I don't see why not."  
…  
……  
…  
They crossed over to Nebraska early in the morning, a mere hour before sunrise. Its great plains stretching before them. The radio was blasting Bob Dylan. Mike was driving, windows on his side open. He was content. Calm. Maybe even happy. More than he has ever been. He glanced over at Gale, the man uncomfortably crammed in the car seat, lightly snoring. The cat, Wayne, on his lap, sleeping as well. It had a harness on, a leash attached to it. The leash was loosely wrapped around Gales wrist. Before they had left Gales house, he had trimmed his beard and hair. Now dressed in cream-colored pants and a marron turtleneck he almost looked like his former self again.  
Mike felt his stomach rumble. He put his attention back on the road and waited for a road sign that would indicate a gas station. Maybe even a diner if they were lucky. 

Luck was on his side this time, a few miles on the highway he saw the neon lights of a diner in the far distance. A couple of minutes later he pulled into the parking lot. As the car came to a halt, Gale woke from his light slumber. He blinked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
Mike patted him on the shoulder and got out of the car.  
"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast."

The diner had just opened when the two walked in, Gale gently carrying the cat in his arms. They sat down in a middle booth and they ordered a large pot of coffee from the waitress. After she served them the coffee, they ordered breakfast. Pancakes for Mike and hash browns with sausage and eggs for Gale. Plus, a bowl of milk for Wayne.  
The waitress didn't seem to mind the cat sitting in the booth next to Gale. She looked at it once with a raised eyebrow before minding her own business and silently jotting down their order. 

The food was good. Nothing extravagant or special but it was homey. Mike was chewing a particularly big bite of pancake with nothing in mind. Blank. Just revelling in the moment. He washed it down with the coffee and looked over at the cat, that was lapping at the bowl of milk. He watched it clean the bowl out entirely.  
"Can I ask you a question, Gale?"  
Gale gave an affirmative grunt, mouth full with hash browns.  
"Why did you call the cat Wayne…?"  
Gale stopped in his tracks and studied Wayne for a while. Wayne looked back at him, meowing once.  
"Looks like a Wayne to me, 'suppose.", he mumbled, shrugging.  
Mike nodded, not chasing the subject further. If naming a cat after his dead brother was how Gale coped, then more power to him. And looking at it, Mike did have to admit that the cat shared a resemblance with the brother. Probably because it had a white streak down its reddish-brown chin.  
They finished their breakfast in a comfortable silence. 

They continued on their way, this time it was Gale in the driver's seat while Mike rode shotgun, his head leaned against the side window, sleeping despite the amount of caffeine he had consumed a mere hour ago.  
Wayne was resting in a pet travel carrier, tightly secured on the backseat of the car. A whole box of cat food stored next to it.  
He reached out and turned on the radio, immediately lowering the volume to not disturb his passengers. Johnny Cash serenaded as the car drove north.  
…  
……  
…  
Instead of driving through South Dakota, Mike chose a detour through Wyoming. Its mountains cold and menacing, standing tall in the distance. It had started to snow again the past couple of days, covering the land in a white haze.  
Throughout their trip they spent most of their nights in motels and B&Bs. Sometimes, when nothing else was available, they parked on the side of the road and slept in the car using emergency blankets from the trunk to fight the seeping cold.  
Tonight, they had found a cheap motel in time.  
Outside, Mike was standing in a phone booth, feeding the phone some change. He punched in familiar numbers and then retrieved his hand to stuff it back into the warmth of his pocket. It rang two times before it someone picked up.  
"Goran. It's Mike."  
"…"  
"Yeah, we just reached Glendo, we're staying in a motel a bit out of town. Uhu. Yeah that one. Listen, I need you to bring me the merchandise. If possible, tonight. We can't stay for too long."  
"…"  
"Mhm. Yeah. Alright. We'll be here."  
He hung up the phone and hurried inside.  
…  
……  
…  
A loud clack.  
Gale had just snapped the new shotgun close and inspected its quality. He was sitting on his bed, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he aimed at the TV mounted to the wall.  
On the other bed various guns and rifles had been laid out for display. Mike took fancy to an old school revolver, reminiscent of the wild west.  
A third man was in the room. An older man of Serbian descent in his late 50s with a stern look on his face. Clearly a former militia man. He was sitting in a chair next to Mike, nursing a drink. The cat had nestled on the man's lap, stretched out and purring.  
"No numbers. Not traceable. Ammunition too. Just as you requested", the man spoke.  
Mike nodded, smiling, while he shoved the revolver beneath his belt.  
"I appreciate it."  
Mike pulled out a fat envelope and tossed it at the man. The man caught it with his free hand and peeked inside. Satisfied, he took a sip of his drink.  
"So? Where are you boys headed? Kansas has most of the region under its belt. Partly thanks to you."  
Mike started packing up the rest of the guns.  
"Montana is still no man's-land as far as any organisations go. I've got us a place down south. We'll see how it goes from there."  
The man nodded and raised his glass.  
"Well. To Montana"  
…  
……  
…  
The sun had set over the horizon, the stars in the sky now fully visible.  
Their car was cruising along the highway, Gale in the driver’s seat and Mike fidgeting with the radio. The highway was lively, mostly huge cargo trucks driving through. The traffic had thickened over the evening and it was harder and harder for them to squeeze past the trucks.  
Mike was fidgeting with the radio until he found a coherent channel and leaned back. Both listened quietly to the traffic news.

"We have just heard word from the police that on the interstate 25 has indeed been an accident. According to law enforcement two trucks have collided after one of the drivers fell asleep and lost control over his vehicle. Both drivers have suffered minor injuries but are well and alive. Clean-up has already started but due to the nature of the cargo of the trucks it will take more than a few hours. If possible, try leaving the interstate to avoid the accident site. Furthermore, we advise you…"

Mike switched to a country music channel and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a weathered map and untangled it. After studying it for a minute he hummed.  
"The next exit is just a few miles from here. It leads to a road through a national park. We might have to pay a few bucks for the entrance fee but we will avoid big traffic. Let's take the detour, I don't want to be stuck on the interstate the whole night."  
Gale nodded. 

An hour later they were driving through a thick pine forest covered in snow. At least the street itself was clear. Clouds had covered the moon and most parts of the sky leaving them in pitch black darkness. Only the headlights gave them any sense of the environment they were in.  
Mike, again, was studying the map.  
"I think we're about halfway through… Another hour and we'll be out…"  
He checked his wristwatch. 01 18 am.  
"Let's keep driving until we find a place to stay. Or at least a gas station. We can sleep in, considering how much ground we already covered… You okay with that?"  
"Yup."  
Mike put the map away and unfastened his seatbelt. Then he reached to the backseat and pulled up a seven-ounce thermos can. He quietly screwed the lid open and poured himself a coffee. He took a sip and immediately made an appalled face.  
"Coffee is barely warm. You want some too?"  
Gale let go of the wheel with one hand and took the lid, downing the coffee in one gulp.  
As he was giving the lid back to Mike, a deer followed by a small pack of wolves ran into the street.  
It all happened in a split second. Gale grabbed the steering wheel and stepped on the breaks hard. Mike braced himself. The car slid over the thin frost covering the street. A dull bang. They partially hit the deer. Its antlers broke the windshield. The front wheels made contact with a batch of ice. The cur spun out of control and went off road down a steep slope…  
…  
……  
…  
Gale blinked.  
The black spots in his vision wouldn't disappear. He was still holding onto the steering wheel for dear life as if it would've made a difference now. The car had flipped upside down, leaving both him and Mike hanging in their seats.  
Gale glanced over. Mike was gone.  
Groaning, Gale let go off the steering wheel and unbuckled his seat belt. Rather ungracefully he crashed into the roof of the vehicle and breathed out a tired curse.  
Somehow, he managed to shift his body in the tiny space so his feet were up to the side window. Two strong kicks and the glass broke. He crawled outside, feeling dizzy when he was finally able to stand up straight. For a short moment he was sure he was going to throw up but his stomach thankfully settled down.  
After the first waves of shock wore off, he looked at the scene.  
The car was an absolute mess. What was left of the deer was sprawled over the snow. One of the wolves got crushed by the car, its hind legs sticking out from underneath it. Smoke was emitting from the engine and one light was still faintly flickering.  
He looked up the slope. More of a rocky cliff form his angle. No chance they would be able to climb that.  
Wherever the rest of that wolfpack went, the howling was too close for comfort. He was about to go to the trunk to try and get the guns, when the sound of heavy steps in snow startled him. He turned around and was blinded by a flashlight.  
"You okay there, Gale?"  
Gale put up a hand to protect his eyes and nodded.  
Mike shone the light to the ground. Wayne’s little head was sticking out the collar of Mikes jacket.  
"The cat got out, but I managed to grab it."  
Another howl. This time it was closer.  
Reminded of the imminent danger surrounding them, Gale followed through with getting the guns. He managed to pry the trunk open and the duffel bag with the guns fell into the snow. He opened it and pulled out the shotgun. He questioningly glanced at Mike.  
Mike put the flashlight away and held out his hand. "Give me the revolver."  
Gale threw the unloaded revolver with the ammo at Mike who caught it with ease.  
"Take the bag."  
Gale shouldered it and together they wandered into the dark forest.  
The undisturbed Snow glittered in the pale sheen of the flashlight. It was an act of strength wading through the deep patches. Mike sometimes would sink in up to his crotch.  
They were trekking through the forest for about an hour when Mike suddenly stopped. Gale almost walked into him. Mike was silently staring into the dark. Then he turned off the flashlight. He pointed ahead.  
Gale squinted.  
There, well hidden behind trees and brush, the warm shimmer of lights. Gale nodded and they moved on. 

The light source was an old hunting cabin. Next to it stood what looked like a wooden storage or a tiny barn.  
Both Mike and Gale hid behind a snowy boulder, observing the windows of the cabin. They didn't see any people. Mike spotted three snowmobiles peeking out behind a second, smaller building.  
"Hunters", Mike assumed.  
"Bit late for hunting season", Gale commented.  
They looked at each other. 

Mike made sure to hide the revolver in his jacket before they knocked on the door. A curtain was pulled aside. Rustling. Then the door opened just an inch. Enough to get a good look at Mike and Gale.  
"Yes?"  
Mike smiled.  
"We're sorry to interrupt at this hour but you see…My companion and I had a bit of an accident. We left our totalled car a couple miles back. And I am positive that there is a pack of wolves roaming this forest."  
"They tend to do that around these parts", the person replied drily.  
"Pardon?"  
"The wolves. They roam."  
Silence.  
"You mind if we stay the night? Maybe use a phone if you have one?"  
"I don't. "  
"Still, it would be awfully kind of you to not let us freeze out here. Or get mauled by wolves"  
The person considered that.  
"I'm not supposed to let strangers in."  
"And I agree with you on that. But this is a bit of an unusual situation. Isn't it Gale?"  
As Mike turned to the big man, Gale pulled a shard of windshield glass out of his cheek and flicked it to the side. A trail of blood dripped down his face.  
The door closed and they heard the sound of a chain lock. Then the door swung open.  
"Come in. But leave the shotgun on the porch."  
Gale did so and swiftly followed Mike into the warm cabin.  
Through the tiny opening of the door it was hard to tell but now it was clear that their host was just a young boy. Eighteen-ish. Maybe.  
The boy stood there awkwardly in the middle of the room. Staring at them. Mike stared back, thinking the boy was waiting to ask a question. But he didn't. Silence prolonged. Mike decided to break the ice with his usual smile.  
"Thank you so much for letting us stay. It is awfully kind of you. What's your name?"  
The boy’s neutral expression changed into a curious smile.  
"Why?", he asked.  
A beat.  
"Why?", Mike echoed.  
"Why do you need to know my name?"  
Another beat. This kid was full-on fucking with him. But he played along. "I suppose one asks after names of people he gets acquainted with."  
"So, you don't need to know it."  
"Well, it is just a formality in the end. We don't need to know your name. You don't need to know ours."  
The boy seemed happy with that conclusion. He sat down on a couch beneath a window and picked up a book he presumably was reading before he got interrupted. He opened it and closed it right after.  
"There is a first-aid kit in the bathroom."  
Mike nodded. "We appreciate that."  
Gale went to pluck the remaining shards out of his face and Mike sat down on an unoccupied bunk bed on the opposite end of the room. He opened his jacket and the cat wriggled out. It jumped on the floor and started cleaning its dishevelled fur. As Mike slid of his shoes, he got a good look at the kid. Regular sized feller. Kind of lanky. Brown hair. An awful haircut. All in all, unremarkable looking… Mikes eyes wandered down to the book the boy was reading.

The complete tales of the Grimm brothers.

A bit old for fairy tales, he thought.

"About that phone…?"  
"I don't have one", the boy replied.  
"I am aware. But you might know where the next payphone could be."  
The boy thought about that.  
"Gas station. A couple of miles east from here."  
“Good.”  
Gale came back from the bathroom, face still bleeding like he had cut himself by shaving. He climbed up the second bunk bed. Mike lied down himself and closed his eyes.  
…  
……  
…  
Gale woke up before sunrise. Wayne was nestled against his head. The cat blinked slowly at Gale. Gale scratched it behind its ear and looked over to their host. He was still sleeping. Then he glanced down the bunk bed. It was already empty.  
The bed squeaked as he carefully climbed down. The cat scooped in his right arm. He slid into his shoes without his socks and stepped outside. 

The sky was already turning brighter. The forest looking far friendlier in the morning light than it did just a few hours ago.  
Mike stood in the snow, back towards the cabin. When he heard Gales crunching footsteps he turned around. A cigarette hung from his lips. He offered Gale the packet. Gale stood next to him and took a cigarette. Mike lit it for him. They both smoked in silence.  
Mike finished his cigarette and flicked it into the snow. Slightly shivering, he put his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Have you seen any sign of other people in there?”  
Gale took a long drag of his cigarette, pondering.  
“Boots. Rifles. Coats”, he recalled.  
“And the three snowmobiles out front”, Mike added.  
Gale nodded.  
Mike chuckled. “Something is off.”  
Gale questioningly mimed a throat slitting motion at Mike, but Mike shook his head.  
“Not if we can avoid it.”  
Gale, again, nodded.  
Mike lit a second cigarette. The cat in Gales arms got restless. It squeezed out of his grip and was gone in a second, dashing towards the barn.  
Sighing, Gale ran after it. Mike finished the cigarette before he followed their tracks. 

Gale stood at the back of the barn, hand on his hips, head tilted upwards. When Mike caught up with him, he followed the man's line of sight. A tilted window.  
"It climbed in?"  
Gale made an affirmative noise and started stalking towards the front of the barn.  
The door was locked with a heavy metal lock. Gale took it in his hand and turned it to get a good look at it. It was old. Rusty. He let go of it, took a step back and kicked it hard with his left foot. It broke and fell into the snow with a soft thud. Then it took nothing more than a slight push to open the big door. The cat pranced out the open gap immediately, meowing as it rubbed against Gales leg. He picked up the wicked thing only to notice that its tiny toes were smudged with red.  
Mike, who had observed to whole scenario quietly took the cat out of Gales hands and gestured towards the door. Gale pushed the door fully apart.  
Both of them just stared at the entrails of the barn with neutral expressions.  
"Huh. Would you look at that."  
"Mhm."  
"Not surprised though, I gotta say."  
"Nuhuh."  
A familiar clicking sound made them turn in unison.  
The boy pointed a hunting rifle at them.  
"Good Morning. Didn't mean to disturb those two fellas in there. Family of yours?"  
The boy's grip around the rifle tightened. He didn't say anything.  
"So, what now?"  
The boy pointed the rifle straight at Mike "I kill you."  
Mike huffed, impressed. "That's a lot of bodies to get rid of. You sure about that? Looks to me like these fellers have been in there for at least a week."  
The boy readjusted his stance. "So?"  
"So, it seems like you haven't thought this all the way through."  
A beat.  
"So, what if I didn’t?"  
Mike smiled. "How far do you think you’ll get before they catch you? A month? Maybe two? You'll end up in prison…sooner or later."  
The boy scoffed. "What do you know?!"  
Mike scratched the cat’s neck. "Oh, more than you think. Me and my partner over here are hitmen. And damn fine ones I might add…"  
The boy let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, right."  
"Now. This can go two ways, boy", Mike carried on, "You'll try to shoot me. But I have a loaded revolver and years of experience with it. You'll be dead before your body even hits the ground. Then we will stage this whole scene as a teenager that went crazy, killing those two men in there - which you did, by the way – and then offing himself. Tragedy."  
The boys eye twitched slightly. Mike continued with the hypothetical.  
"Or – and this is me being generous - you throw that rifle in the snow and we'll help you get rid of those bodies. Then I'll get us a car and we'll be out of here by sundown. We'll throw you out at the state line and we'll never have to see each other again."  
The boy stood there like a statue.  
"You're talking shit."  
Mike smiled kindly, eyes glaring. "Wanna try me?"  
…  
……  
…  
The car shook as it sped over the uneven road it’s passengers heads bobbing with it. No one talked. Mike watched the young man on the back seat though the rear-view mirror. The boy was looking out the window. Calm. Neutral. Almost bored. Meanwhile Gale sat next to him, pushing a gun into the boy’s arm. A safety measure.  
Mike pulled his eyes back to the road. Gripping the wheel just a teeny bit tighter. 

Ten miles before the state line they threw their hitchhiker out at a Gas station. Nothing was said. The boy just took his bag and left. As they drove off, the figure faded and soon was gone. And with him that strange night.  
Mike sighed.  
Gale offered a cup of shitty gas station coffee. Mike gladly took it.  
“Strange kid…”, he said before taking a sip.  
Gale scratched the cat under its chin. He watched Mike from the corner of his eyes.  
A beat.  
Mike continued: “A few months and hell end up in prison anyway. Rile someone up he shouldn’t rile up. Die.”  
The road curved. Mike turned the steering wheel calmly.  
“Or he’ll get a job. Could end up in Kansas city even. Who knows.”  
Gale just listened, the cat rubbing against his belly.  
“Would be a real pain in the ass if we would run into that guy again in a couple of years.”  
Mike handed the coffee back to Gale. Gale took it, quietly laughing.  
They crossed the state line. Finally entering Montana. Beautiful mountains covered in thick pine forests loomed in the distance.  
“It sure would.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope this was decent


End file.
